Replaying
by Of Pearls and Paints
Summary: My life is a tape, replaying and replaying until there is nothing left. It's a continuous cycle of heartbreak and misery. The sequences of events that lead me to this point are no coincidence. Peeta and Katniss and struck in the same predicament in the Quarter Quell as they were in the 74th games. Only one victor is allowed.


My life is a tape, replaying and replaying until there is nothing left. It's a continuous cycle of heartbreak and misery. The sequences of events that lead me to this point are no coincidence. No, it was carefully crafted and constructed, each occurrence a bead that slides onto my string of life. The string that is almost at its end.

I should have seen it coming earlier, when Finnick fought and struggled through the vast blue monster called the sea. Oh the irony that Finnick, one of the strongest tributes and from district four, nonetheless, was killed by the ocean. But even the strongest victors can't escape from President Snow's will. If he wants you dead, you will be in a matter of days. Simple as that.

I should have known for certain when Brutus, the brawny career from two, was overtaken by the deadly fog. Our strongest competitors fell one by one, like pieces on a chess board. Still I remained oblivious, blinded by the pure relief that Peeta was still alive and breathing.

Instead I realize now, standing alone, deserted in this circular arena except for one person.

"We've been through this before, haven't we?" Peeta asks.

We're pieces in Snow's game. All of us. Merely pawns used to gain power and teach others a lesson. And this, this will be the worst lesson of all, taught in the most horrible way.

"But this time I won't be coming home. Sorry Katniss," he says, slowly taking out his knife.

"Don't." I take his wrist, trying to extract the knife from his fingers but he just grips it tighter.

"Please don't make it harder than it is."

"Together," I blurt out. And why not? A martyr will add fuel to the flames, but two?

This is how I will die. Not by public execution, not by starvation. I will die by offering up my life for the rebellion, the way I planned it all along.

"They won't fall for it this time," Peeta says, looking up the sky as if the Capitol is going to swarm in as soon as he says those words.

"I know."

"Ready?"

"Ready." And then the world goes black.

When I awake I am momentarily confused by the bright white walls surrounding me. Am I dead? Is this some go-between where I will be stuck in forever?

My eyelids start drooping, lulled to sleep by drugs, before I can piece together where I am. The next time I wake up I see a lady checking my vital signs. I ask her where I am and she just shakes her head.

My true awaking comes the third time, in time to see the same person attend to my bedside. She hands me a small roll which makes me think of the delicious cheese buns Peeta makes me. Peeta! Is he in this go-between too? Or did he end up somewhere else? I decide to ask the lady.

"You'll see him soon," she says sweetly. A smile immediately comes upon my face, the muscles sore from lack of use. He's alive, and that's all that matters. Even though I have no idea where I am, he's alive and near.

"Where am I?" I ask but by then she's already gone.

It's only when a certain someone visits me that I know where I am.

"Pleased to see you again, ," President Snow says, his scent dripping with blood. I'm not dead. I'm not in some go-between. I'm in the Capitol. The truth hits me harder than expected. For some bizarre reason I feel like laughing. Laughing at my vain effort to defeat Snow, laughing at the fact that a second ago I thought I was dead.

"Have you been enjoying your stay here? The rolls are ravishing, yes?" he says, pointing to my empty plate. Silence answers him.

"Now. Onto the real talk. I couldn't possibly let you die there in the arena, now could I? That would make this rebellion spread and blossom, something you and I both know I don't need. And for no winner? How scoffed that game would be. No, it wouldn't work. So I came up with a clever plan soon after. The most clever plan I've ever had. Do you know what it is?"

I shake my head. "Speak, ."

"No," I reply, my voice cracking.

"Let's put it this way. Would you put your life in the hands of a mad, uncontrollable girl?"

Snow's plan is clear. Make me into some lunatic and no one will listen to me. When no answer comes he adds, "Hmmm?"

"No," I say because I know that's what he wants to hear. A devilish smile stretches across his pale face.

"No. You're right. Why would anyone listen to a mad girl? I certainly wouldn't. The only question is what drives a person to insanity?" My legs are still weak but Snow still leads me to another almost identical room. The only difference is that there is no hospital bed. Suddenly I smack right into a clear glass wall.

"See this? I made it especially for you. It's so the person on one side can clearly see to the other. Ingenious, eh?" I want to snap at him, tell him what I really think about his wall but I bite my tongue. Fighting will only make things worse.

He abruptly snaps his fingers, calling in some guards. I see Peeta being led in by two burly men. In that one moment our eyes meet and all I can see is regret, sorrow. _Sorry I couldn't save you_, I think. His eyes seem to tell me he's sorry I have to watch this.

The pieces of the puzzle click together, creating this horrid masterpiece. Snow never wanted both of us to die, or even one of us to die, like I thought he wanted us to during the Quarter Quell. Instead he wants us both to live, one tortured physically, the other mentally. _Would you put your life in the hands of a mad, uncontrollable girl?_ Snow's words echo in my head. What use is an uncontrollable Mockingjay anyway? None. None at all.

I curse myself for falling for it, for falling for it all. How could I believe that it was within my power to save Peeta? He has an even worse fate than mine now, because who knows what they'll do to him. A thousand words pass between our eyes, repeating the same sentence over and over again. _I'm sorry._

But does "sorry" save us now? Does it relieve Peeta of the pain, does it comfort me while he's being tortured a few feet away? The promises we made are broken. They were broken a long time ago, the time when a girl spoke of dying for a burning rebellion. Everything's broken. Including me.

**Reviews are appreciated. I hope you enjoyed it. **


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